


The Seams We Sew

by pinkie2054



Series: Pinkie’s Oneshots [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, mcyt
Genre: Angst, Dadza, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Suicidal Thoughts, TW’s in notes, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, it gets heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28879284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkie2054/pseuds/pinkie2054
Summary: At first, he was confused, unsure of where he was and what was happening as he took a few panting breaths.Then, the floodgates in his mind opened, and everything poured in. The anger that had been momentarily forgotten seeped into the very essence of his being, along with regret, concern, and joy.One thought was at the forefront of his brain, and it was voiced in the very first words Wilbur spoke after his resurrection. “I need to find Tommy.”———————-AKA a fic where wilbur gets resurrected and makes everyone pull their heads out of their asses and realize that tommy is going through it rn. was gonna be wilbur and tommy centric but kinda devolved into sbiALSO i wrote this and posted it a little before the 1/20 stream just btw
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, if you ship minors please don’t interact with this fic
Series: Pinkie’s Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050830
Comments: 17
Kudos: 732





	The Seams We Sew

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Zizz_232 for Beta-ing this fic!
> 
> TW for referenced violence, implied/referenced abuse and the effects of abuse, absent parent, temporary character death, dysfunctional family dynamics
> 
> be warned that while there’s comfort, there’s also a lot of angst. Also it starts off not great but i promise the writing gets better

Contrary to popular belief, Ghostbur wasn’t completely clueless. He was, by his own standards, rather adept at reading social cues. In fact, he’d go as far as to call himself observant. Well, he’d call Wilbur observant, at least.

Wilbur was a constant presence in Ghostbur’s mind, deep in the recesses of his brain, and he noticed everything that Ghostbur didn’t. He remembered everything that Ghostbur, admittedly, couldn’t. 

Now, that’s not to say that Ghostbur didn’t see _anything_ , it’s just that he ignores the implications and forgets the situations too much for him to do anything about it. Wilbur doesn’t blame Ghostbur for this. How could he, when Ghostbur, in part, was a being of his own creation? 

Ghostbur has elected not to share the fact that Wilbur is still there, he knows that people didn’t like Alivebur very much, and doesn’t want to stress them out. But his lack of openness about it doesn’t mean that Wilbur isn’t very much there, in his head. And Wilbur was _angry_. 

It scared Ghostbur sometimes, how angry the other was. The man was irate enough to turn Ghostbur’s blue into red when Ghostbur thought about him too much. And as much as he refused to admit it, it scared Wilbur too. 

It would be a lie to say that Wilbur liked the fact that he held all of the weight Ghostbur shed. He quite hated it. But that hate paled in comparison at the fury directed towards those around him. With flaming eyes and clenched fists, Wilbur would watch through Ghostbur’s eyes as mistreatment raged around him, its presence prominent in the people’s behaviors. 

He watched as his remaining family was torn apart by their own stubbornness and miscommunication, he watched his country, his unfinished symphony, collapse around him, he watched as a tyrant pulled the strings and manipulated the people closest to him into doing _terrible_ things. He watched as everything he had slowly fell apart. And he was tired of it.

He was tired of not being able to protect those around him. One person in particular. 

So, an idea was brought up to Ghostbur. An idea Wilbur wasn’t even sure was possible. As much as the Ghost loved all the people he got to see, he was tired too. Tired of the energy it took to stay on the server, the pain that accompanied the strain of remaining corporeal, the way he couldn’t stay in the rain. And so, Ghostbur agreed.

Phil had agreed to Ghostbur’s plea, and Wilbur knew it was because the man felt guilt for what he did to him. Frankly, the man’s remorse was unfounded. Wil had forgiven him for _that_ transgression long ago. But, whatever does the trick, he supposes. 

The first two attempts at resurrection went… suboptimally, to say the least. Sharing the headspace with Schlatt, however briefly, was not something he wanted to revisit. That man was right when he said he was better off dead, in Wilbur’s honest opinion. 

But Wilbur was optimistic. They had a totem, and Ghostbur promised him that he was ready to let go this time. Ghostbur had the chance to say a real goodbye to everyone, and he would rather leave on his own terms, than wait to die in the rain on a random Thursday. 

For all Wilbur thought he was prepared, he was completely caught off guard by his transition into life. Pain seared through his body - he had a _body_ again - as he was thrown into existence. Ghostbur whispered a small goodbye in his mind, and Wilbur collapsed to the floor, supporting himself on one knee, unused to holding his weight. 

“Wil?” his father’s hesitant voice rang out across the crater where the shrine had been built. At first, he was confused, unsure of where he was and what was happening as he took a few panting breaths. 

Then, the floodgates in his mind opened, and everything poured in. The anger that had been momentarily forgotten seeped into the very essence of his being, along with regret, concern, and joy. 

One thought was at the forefront of his brain, and it was voiced in the very first words Wilbur spoke after his resurrection. “I need to find Tommy,” he said, raising his head to look his father dead in the eye.

This was shocking to Phil, who, albeit not knowing what to expect, was not prepared for such fire in his son's eyes. “Why?” He asked despite himself, bewildered by the turn of events and almost insulted by the lack of a greeting. His question was mirrored by Ranboo, Fundy, and Eret. 

“Because,” Wilbur growled, “you’ve all fucked up quite substantially and he deserves some goddamn support right now! Where is Tommy?” The group of four startled, slightly chastised. 

“Dad, why don’t you just sit down for a momen-” Fundy tried, only to be cut off. 

“Fundy, I appreciate the fact that you think you’re doing what’s best right now. That’s admirable. I am excited to catch up with you, and first I need to talk to my little brother. Urgently,” Wilbur stated, leaving no room for argument in his tone. 

Fundy closed his mouth and nodded, ears perking up slightly at the idea of catching up with Wilbur now that he wasn’t a ghost and was - probably - sane. 

“I know where Tommy is,” Ranboo announced hesitantly, raising his hand. Wilbur’s eyes snapped to him, softening slightly at the tense posture of the hybrid.

“I’m not angry at you, Ranboo. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he reassured, watching him relax slightly. “Will you show me where Tommy is?” he nodded.

“Follow me.”

Phil spoke up. “As much as I love that you’re back, I don’t fully trust your mental state yet. How do we know that you won’t hurt Ranboo or do something else drastic?” Wilbur sighed, knowing the man had a point.

“You can come with, given that Ranboo is ok with that,” he compromised. As much as Wilbur hated the idea of people like Eret or Phil getting near Tommy after everything they’ve done, he could recognize the fact that it wouldn’t get him anywhere to be uncooperative. Besides, they had a right to be suspicious of him, after everything he’s’ done.

With that, the four of them were on their way to ‘Snowchester,’ as Ranboo had referred to it. Tommy and Tubbo’s home. 

It took Wilbur a little while to adjust to having a physical form again, his steps slow and uncertain for a while before evening out. He didn’t mind though, knowing he needed to get to Tommy. No one was acknowledging the fact that he was a child, a traumatized one at that. No one knew what happened to him out there. But Wilbur did. 

Wilbur saw how Tommy wasted away during exile, in all senses of the word. Wilbur watched, trapped, as Dream abused him and gaslighted him into believing it was ok. Wilbur stumbled upon the tower Tommy had almost jumped off of. He was done watching. He was going to be there for his brother in a way that no one else had been. No matter what it took. 

They arrived at Snowchester after a short while of walking. It lived up to its name, reminding Wilbur of Techno’s house in the way that it was covered by snow. A half-built house resided there. 

Tubbo was there, dutifully working on the building. He wore a large coat and a hat, presumably things that survived the explosion of L’manburg. He was humming a song known only in his own head, smiling slightly as he worked. 

“Tubbo!” Ranboo greeted, a slight strain in his voice. The boy’s smile widened as he continued building without looking up.

“Ranboo! What brings you to Snowchester?” He asked. 

“Uh… about that,” Ranboo said, not sure how to begin. Sensing the hesitation in his voice, Tubbo looked up, concerned. He froze upon seeing Ranboo’s company.

His eyes danced across the people in front of his home, unsure of who to focus on. In front of him were a friend, a teenager, a terrorist (in his eyes, at least), and a no-longer-ghost. “What’s going on here?” He questioned, the smile falling off his face entirely. 

“I need to find Tommy, they’re here to make sure I’m not still insane,” Wilbur explained briefly. Tubbo’s mouth opened and shut as he searched for words.

“How are you alive, and why do you want to see Tommy?” is what he settled on. Wilbur sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“I was resurrected, and I think he needs his brother right now. Gods know he could use any support he could get.” Tubbo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“Fine, but I’m coming with you.” Wilbur shrugged, not feeling the need to object.

Tubbo led them behind the house, over to a small clearing that overlooked a cliff. A bench resided there with a small, curled up figure sitting on it, staring at the ground below. 

“Tommy,” Wilbur called from several yards away, causing the figure’s head to whip around. Tommy sprung to his feet, coming around to the other side of the bench. 

“Wilbur?” he questioned, his voice breaking. “Wh- How are you here?” 

“Tommy, I… I came back for you, I had Ghostbur ask to resurrect me,” Wilbur confessed. 

“Why?” The teenager’s eyes filled with tears. 

Wilbur glanced at the people behind him, considering how much to divulge with a crowd, before deciding that they should know what happened, too. 

“Tommy, I know what happened to you.” The boy tensed. “I have all of Ghostbur’s memories, and I know what he did to you. And I am so, so sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most. I let you down. We _all_ let you down. I wasn’t there for you then, but I promise that I’m here for you now.” A few beats passed in silence, confusing morphing the bystander’s features. 

Then, Tommy’s expression crumpled, and he ran to his brother, collapsing in Wilbur’s arms. Sobs escaped him as Wilbur hugged back, them sinking to the ground in their embrace. Wilbur heard a new person approaching, but couldn’t bring himself to care as he held his younger brother. 

“I was so scared Wilby, I was all alone and he- he was there but he was so _mean_ and I just wanted to go _home_ -” Wilbur shushed him gently.

“I know, Tommy, I know. You’re going to be ok now, I’m here, I promise.” The man mumbled reassurances to his brother as he rubbed his back, giving as much comfort as he could. “I won’t let him hurt you again,” he promised.

After a few minutes of the two brothers clutching each other as the younger cried, Ranboo cleared his throat, pocketing a notebook that Wilbur hadn’t noticed he was writing in. Technoblade had arrived at some point over the past 10 minutes and was staring with wide eyes at the scene before him. Tubbo looked despondent, Fundy confused, and Eret lost. Phil had an unreadable expression on his face. The snow fell quietly around them.

“Uh, what happened?” Ranboo asked, clearly confused by the interaction. Tommy hid his face in Wilbur’s shirt and he pulled him closer in response. 

Feeling protective of his little brother, the man glared at the enderman hybrid. “You all abandoned him in his time of need, that’s what fucking happened. You left him with that green bastard and turned a blind eye to a _16 year old’s_ suffering. You made him grow up too fast and this is the result.” 

“I refuse to believe that being a little lonely warrants this response,” Technoblade deadpanned. Tommy stiffened in Wilbur’s arms.

“If Tommy wants to tell you the details of what happened, that’s his choice. But you have _no right_ to decide how traumatic an experience was for someone. You have _no right_ to assume the details of events that _YOU DIDN'T WITNESS!_ ” Tommy flinched at the shouting, causing Wilbur to apologize quietly, rocking the teen back and forth. “You might not understand, Technoblade, but you don’t have to.” 

The piglin hybrid huffed, electing not to argue further. Philza looked at the scene before him, horrified. 

You have to understand, Philza Minecraft never thought of himself as a bad father. Sure, he focused more on Techno in their youth than he did on Tommy or Wilbur, but every parent had a favorite despite what they had the kids believe, right?

He was there for birthdays - most of the time - and he provided for them. Yeah, he disappeared for almost a year at a time, off on adventures with Technoblade, but that wasn’t uncommon, right? Right? 

Hell, even when he killed Wilbur, he hadn’t thought of himself as a bad father. It wasn’t _his_ fault that his son went mad. Of course, that didn’t stop the guilt that accompanied the action, but his logical mind reasoned that he wasn’t in the wrong. 

But now, staring at his youngest son as he sobbed in the arms of his brother, so clearly hurt and traumatized, he wavered. His mind flitted through the series of traumatic events Tommy had endured in his sixteen years of life. From having an absent parent, to fighting in wars, to losing his brother, to _whatever_ the hell happened during his exile, he had plenty of emotional baggage to go around.

He was on one life at 16, and Phil didn’t even try to help. The winged hybrid saw the teenager - the one he had failed to raise, his oldest taking the responsibility on himself - break into pieces, falling apart at the seams that Tommy was forced to sew himself, and Phil couldn’t see a way to view the situation where he wasn’t at fault.

He was so busy being a good father to Technoblade that he neglected his other two children as they drove themselves into the ground trying to prove that they were _worth_ something. 

Wilbur went insane by the fault of his situation, living in decrepit conditions as he fought with his brother for their home, and Phil was looking for a woodland mansion. 

Tommy was exiled, drove from the people he learned to call family and isolated for months, and Phil was helping Technoblade build a cottage. 

Their home was destroyed beyond any semblance of repair, and Phil was actively aiding the country’s demise.

And he had the audacity to call himself a good father. 

He sunk to his knees in the snow, head bowed in shame. Technoblade made a sound of concern, placing a hand on his father’s shoulder, but he was shrugged off. 

“Dad?” Tommy asked weakly from Wilbur’s arms, lifting his head from the older’s chest to look at Phil. The blonde’s locked eyes, both gazes filled with pain. The world was quiet in a passive memorial for a childhood cut far too short. 

“I’m sorry,” the father whispered, words barely audible through the light breeze that swept through the clearing. Tommy’s eyes set ablaze, a rarely-seen ember burning in the iris. He pushed himself from the sanctuary of his brother’s arms, rising unsteadily to his feet, determination clear in his features.

“You’re _sorry_?” he whispered, fury etched into his face. “What good does that sorry do? Where was that sorry when I was starving on a beach, unable to eat because my measly food supply was being blown up every day? Where was that sorry when I was stabbed for challenging the man who claimed to be my friend? Where was that sorry when the place that me and the shell of my brother built was exploded by the man tasked to protect me during my exile? Where-” he paused, voice breaking, tears tracking down his cheeks, snow crunching under his feet as he stepped forward. “Where was that _sorry_ when I almost killed myself because I was _so alone_?” A collective gasp rippled throughout the group. 

“Not only where was that sorry, but where were _you!_ My entire life was spent vying for a morsel of your attention but it was _never **enough!**_ I was never enough for you! And now, after I finally am starting to get back on my feet after you blew up my home, you show up and you say _sorry?_ ” Tommy shook his head. “Fuck your ‘sorry’s.” Tears streamed down the teen’s face, his breath uneven. 

Technoblade bristled at the attack on their father. “Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” he snapped, venom in his voice. Said person flinched backward at the tone, stumbling into Wilbur. 

His eyes glazed over. “I-I I’m sorry, Dream,” he placated, pulling off his helmet and throwing it on the ground, beginning to reach for his tools. Wilbur gently intercepted his hands.

“It’s ok, Tommy. Dream’s not here,” he reassured. Tommy snapped back into focus, the shaking that had picked up subsiding, and his face flushed in embarrassment. 

Technoblade wasn’t an idiot. He was a quick thinker and had always been known for having foolproof plans. He was a merciless fighter, the voices called for blood and Technoblade listened, feeding off of his anger and hatred until he became it. 

But right now, he was without a clue. 

He thought he had Tommy figured out. He was a fairly good fighter and had a mind for battle strategies, but was a teenager that put his energy into trivial matters. He was loyal to a fault but never took anything seriously. Most notably, he was a loud and boisterous kid who did not open up to people. He didn’t like showing weakness. 

But here he was, breaking down in front of friends and enemies alike, lashing out in a much more vicious way than usual, and was far too afraid for comfort. And Techno didn’t know what to do. 

He wanted to be angry. Tommy betrayed him, Techno put his life on the line for his younger brother, and Tommy took that gesture and stomped on it. He sided with the people who drove him out of his home and mistreated him again and again over his own brother, and Techno wanted to be _furious_.

But… he wasn’t. He couldn’t be, not when he could see the tremble surging through Tommy’s body at the raised tone, not when he had become so soft-spoken since he had found him in that tundra, not when Wilbur was there and _alive_ and acting like something much more serious had happened than just plain old loneliness.

And when Tommy confirmed in his rant that his exile did a lot more damage than anyone thought, Technoblade only felt guilt. His brother was 16. A child. In that moment, the weight of the situation crashed into ‘the Blade.’ The teenager had been abused for months by Dream and after Tommy sided with a country he built, Techno went and teamed up with the green asshole. 

If that wasn’t the ultimate “Fuck you,” Technoblade didn’t know what was. Techno had thought he had the blonde figured out, but in this moment, he knew nothing. 

He fucked up. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, looking up from where his gaze had fallen to the snow-covered ground only to find the retreating forms of Wilbur and Tommy. They walked in the direction of the new house, Tubbo in tow. Wilbur shot a glare back at Technoblade as they left and he almost shrunk under the withering gaze. Almost.

The five remaining people stood in the cold, shell-shocked. “I’m a terrible father,” Philza whispered into the wind, still kneeling on the ground. 

The piglin hybrid shook his head vehemently. “No, Phil, you are a great dad-” he tried, getting cut off by his father.

“To _you _I was!” he shouted. “I was a great dad to you, and I left Wilbur and Tommy behind. I abandoned them. They both needed me, and I wasn’t there for them. I was never there for them.” Phil shook his head and laughed mirthlessly, shameful tears streaking down his face against his will. “They grew up too fast because I wasn’t there to let them be kids. And that’s on me until the day I die, son.”__

__Eret, Fundy, and Ranboo exited quietly, understanding that it wasn’t their place to see this. Techno sunk down next to his dad, settling down into the snow, uncaring of the cold that bit through his clothes._ _

__“I- I think I messed up, Dad,” Technoblade confessed softly. “I don’t know what happened to Tommy, not all of it, but I saw enough. I saw his new scars and how he was too skinny. I heard him calling Dream’s name in fear as he woke up from nightmares and how scared he got when Dream came looking for him but… I ignored it. And then he sided with Tubbo and that fucking country, and I was so mad…_ _

__“I never should have teamed up with Dream, dad. I did it to get at Tommy but I went too far, and I don’t know if I can fix it.” His shoulders shook minutely as he drew in shaky breaths._ _

__Phil chuckled wetly. “We are some bunch, huh. Between the four of us, we have enough issues to last a lifetime.” Techno agreed and the two watched the sky for a few minutes, reflecting on their seemingly infinite faults._ _

__\--------------------------------------------------_ _

__Arriving at the house was an almost bleak affair, what with the unfinished decals, ever-darkening sky, and crying teenagers. Wilbur ushered the two kids inside, the warmth from the house barely hotter than outside. He grabbed some firewood that was stacked up by the wall, placing it in the quaint fireplace. He grabbed the flint and steel residing next to it, rubbing them together until a spark landed and caught on the kindling._ _

__The three sat on the ground near the fire, Tommy buried into his brother's side and Tubbo leaning on him._ _

__“I’m sorry, Tommy,” Tubbo whispered into the silence. The apology was almost cloying as it sat in the air. A whisper of uncertainty trailed behind the words, tacked on in a subtle show of vulnerability._ _

__Tubbo was swamped with his guilt, it followed him around incessantly. He was so oblivious. Even as those around him planted the seeds of tyranny in his head, he was none the wiser. It festered like a disease in his brain, forcing him out of his mind and into his own shadow, watching as he lost everything he stood for but unable to stop it. For when something moves, its shadow has no choice but to follow, and Tubbo has been but a silhouette for awhile._ _

__“I know,” Tommy mumbled. “I’m sorry, too.”_ _

__“Seems like we all have a lot to be sorry for,” Wilbur murmured. And for a few moments, the world was just those three, silently pondering their journeys. A delicate bond formed between the three as they clung to each other like they were all they had left, because in that moment, they thought it true._ _

__And then those moments ended. The door to the cabin opened softly, revealing 2 snow-covered figures standing in the doorway. They looked lost, the sort of confusion of trying to grasp a dream just beyond your reach. The two men dreamed of their family, but dreams have a tendency to be like a wave in the sand, running away even as you’re holding their hand._ _

__“Hey,” the winged blonde greeted gently. “Can we come in?” Wilbur held his brother closer._ _

__“That’s up to Tommy.” Said boy only shrugged, afraid to break the tentative armistice that had settled over the room._ _

__Technoblade seemingly took that as an invitation, stepping over the threshold. Phil followed suit, the door creaking as Techno closed it behind him._ _

__A sour expectancy hovered around them as the duo got settled on the ground across from the small group. Silence reigned and the fire crackled ominously._ _

__“I am a shit dad,” Philza commented idly, the words dropping past his lips with a weight that only hard truths hold. “You’re right. I favored Techno over both of you and I barely raised you, Tommy. I put that responsibility on Wilbur and called it a day, acting like I wasn’t sowing dysfunction into our entire dynamic every day that I was gone. I really fucked up. And I know that this apology barely makes a dent in the pain I have caused you, and I’m sorry. I want to make things better, I want to _be_ better. I hope that I can do right by you now, even though I’ve failed you before, because I love you.” The long pause after his monologue was suffocating._ _

__“I-I have something to add.” Techno began, uncharacteristic nervousness in his tone. “I acted irresponsibly and harshly. I was angry and upset with you for… choosing a different side, and so I sided with _him_ to get back at you. You- you never told me that he hurt you but… I knew. Part of me just didn’t want to admit it and so I swept it under the rug and was selfish. Not only that, but I went too far. Yes, Tommy, you used me. But you’re 16. Youre developing, growing, maturing. I should expect those behaviors from you to some extent because it’s normal.I’m an adult, and I used you too. I should’ve realized that I was wrong sooner. I’m… sorry. I love you.” Technoblade took a deep breath as he ended his speech, wringing his hands anxiously. _ _

__Chat was being unusually quiet, the occasional ‘Technobrother’ or ‘Pogchamp’ being the only comments._ _

__A sniffle broke the introspective silence, and everyone’s eyes shot to Tommy, who had a stray tear slipping down his cheek. He reached out his arms from the protection of his brother’s embrace, a silent plea for connection._ _

__His family members obliged, shuffling closer and embracing him as well as the two around him, drawing them all close together. Philza’s wings wrapped around the group._ _

The ground was not the best place for group hugs, it was awkward and uncomfortable and _perfect._ Just like family should be. 

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think! any and all comments are appreciated!


End file.
